


The Life and Lies of Ariana Dumbledore

by dustbutterfly



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-27 16:59:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16706389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustbutterfly/pseuds/dustbutterfly
Summary: A secret they swore to take to the grave, a girl in blood-stained white, a scream of sorrow - Ariana stayed sane after her attack. Somehow everything was so much worse and so much the same.Or:Rita Skeeter was never known for checking the reliability of her sources.





	The Life and Lies of Ariana Dumbledore

1:  
Ariana Dumbledore was fourteen years old. Her father was gone, her mother was dead, and the look in Al’s eyes told her he thought it was her fault.

Her fault that those nasty muggle boys had attacked her all those years ago, her fault that her mother’s heart gave out, her fault that he couldn’t go on all sorts of wonderful adventures.

But Ariana was not insane, like they sometimes joked. Her mind and body were still intact, even if her magic had broken down into a swirling pit of terror. She could feel it somewhere deep inside her, begging to be free. She knew what happened when she let it, though. She knew that her weirdness had caused her mother’s hair to turn white before her time.

She was too frail for school, they said, but really she was just too different. What use is a school of magic for someone who can’t grasp it? She didn’t even have a wand.

(Well. She didn’t have a wand that Al and Abe knew about. Some nights, when she could hear them snore and knew they were fast asleep, she crept into her mother’s old room and stretched onto her toes to reach the dusty box at the top of the old wardrobe. A thin piece of wood, that was all her mother’s wand looked like. It didn’t have the embellishments of Al’s or the cracked appearance of Abe’s but it seemed to call to her. She tried waving it and maybe it was her imagination but every time she tried, the wind through the crack in the window seemed to blow a bit stronger.)

And then one day, not long after the gloomy funeral, _he_ showed up.

2:  
Abe tried to tell her and Al that Gellert Grindelwald was Bad News. He had been expelled from his school, she knew, but he told her all sorts of stories about the mountains and his lessons. He didn’t treat her like a little girl, like a baby to be taken care of.

He looked at her, with his mismatched eyes and his crooked smile and she swore she was in love.

(She would only learn towards the end that Al felt the same, and her heart broke for them both.)

Abe went back to school and still Gellert and Al spoke about their plans. Al was supposed to be teaching her, like her mother had been before her death, but he always had other things to think about. It was Gellert, Gellert who arrived early in the morning just after breakfast with parchment flowing out of his bag and an apple in his hand for Ariana.

Gellert managed the two siblings with the ease of a conductor, seemingly able to switch between explaining the nature of a plant Ariana wanted to try growing and challenging Al to think practically about whatever it was they were planning.

3:  
One night, he didn’t go home to his Aunt Bathilda for his dinner. Al fell asleep at his desk, as he was wont to do, but Gellert still focused on his parchment. Ariana watched him, peering over her knitting. She wanted to make a scarf for Abe and it took her a long time, since she had to do it the muggle way.

Gellert looked up and she had the queerest sensation that he knew exactly what she was thinking. She felt her cheeks heat up, and he smiled.

“It is nearly your birthday, leibling,” he murmured, cautious not to wake his brother in all but blood.

Ariana nodded. “Fifteen.”

“You are catching up to me, then. I do not turn eighteen until the summer.”

Ariana tried to focus on her knitting again. “I forget,” she told him, “that you are so much younger than Al.”

Gellert snorted, a curious sound from someone who normally had so much composure. “Not so much younger. We are both old souls, your brother and I.”

“What about me?” asked Ariana. “Am I an old soul, do you think?”

“Oh, Ana,” sighed Gellert. “I do believe this is your first time on this earth.”

4:  
He stretched one hand out to her, the other pressed against his lips to signal her to be quiet. Ariana blinked up at him. Al was asleep once more. It has become a habit, that she and Gellert will have strange conversations late at night when the fire casts shadows over the room and Albus was a snoozing chaperone.

He gestured again, somewhat more impatiently. “Come,” he whispered. “I have something to give you for your birthday. You will enjoy it, I promise.”

  
5:  
Abe came home and started screaming at Al after he took one look at her. _She was not being taken care of, look at the state of her, how could you let this happen?_

Ariana tuned it out eventually, staring out the window and waiting for Gellert to arrive. He had been incredibly sweet to her over the past few months, even though Al had seemingly become disenchanted with their plans. He said he would come over that day, but he was later than usual.

The shouting carried on for a few hours until a small pop and a knock at the door indicated that Gellert was there. Abe and Al fell silent and didn’t move, so Ariana hopped off her chair and went to the front door.

“Good morning,” she beamed at him. He didn’t quite smile at her, not like he had at the beginning of the summer, but the corners of his mouth twitched. Ariana knew he was happy to see her.

“How are you both?” enquired Gellert, stepping inside and gently resting a hand on her growing belly.

6:  
_lights_

_shouting_

_a scream_

_help me Gel it hurts it hurts what did you do what have you done I can’t it hurts_

_a baby’s cry_

_a secret they swore they’d take to the grave, a girl in a blood stained white dress, a scream of sorrow._

7:  
The two auburn-haired brothers stood by the side of the grave in silence. There was nothing to say. It was two years since their mother’s funeral, and here they were again. The brother with glasses periodically vanished the blood pouring from his freshly broken nose although, curiously, he did not make any effort to repair the nose itself.


End file.
